


Windows and Walls

by Missy



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: Anilingus, Biting, Character Study, Cunnilingus, F/F, Hair-pulling, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, Humor, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:33:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26058766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: Wanting someone so much you hate them is a great way to exercise your proverbial reflexes.  Just ask Persephone.
Relationships: Aphrodite/Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24
Collections: Femslash After Dark 2020





	Windows and Walls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AceQueenKing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceQueenKing/gifts).



Persephone would never quite get used to how damnably bright it was on Mount Olympus in the summer. Months of darkness at Hades’ side and weeks of listening to the lamentations and complaints of the dead had bent her ears and left her body curled up in a sour ball. On the surface, in the mountains, it is all festooned greenery, the light golden pink, the tables covered with white linen and the soft golden chaise lounges strewn about.

Enough to give any thinking person a migraine. 

She was only there, on Olympus at the height of a blazing summer afternoon, because her mother wanted to bring her to consult with Zeus. She’s only sipping bits of ambrosia because it’s dulling her senses in a divine way. Life always seemed to happen to Persephone instead of allowing her to direct herself; she hated it. Lost in her own thoughts, Persephone didn’t see ‘Dite coming, but then again most immortals never do.

“Ow! In my way, again,” complained ‘Dite. She looked her up and down. “Why do you look like you were eaten by a funeral?”

That was an unfair assessment. Persephone had begun wearing darker shades, true, but that was what happened when your whole marriage was spent in a dark cave. “It looks better than those shredded bridal gown castoffs of yours,” said Persephone. 

“This is the finest and latest Athenian style,” said ‘Dite. “We can’t all bring off black so becomingly.”

The compliment took Persephone off-balance. “What?”

‘Dite, as she always did, knew how to steer the conversation in another direction, until it was once more in her favor. “Your hair’s getting dull, honey. Better wash it in lemon and water until it gets back its shine.”

“Hades likes it that way.”

A nasty chuckle came from ‘Dite. “Sweetheart, do yourself a favor. Never base your style around the whims of a man. He’ll drop you flat the second he has the chance.”

“He would not!” said Persephone hotly. Or she certainly hoped he wouldn’t, after the lengths he’d gone to kidnap her.

“Oh, fine,” glowered ‘Dite, and sipped her ambrosia. She was so golden, so beautiful. Persephone wished she could hate her more thoroughly. “Don’t listen to me. But I come from a place of experience, sweetie. I’m just trying to warn you. The only thing a girl can depend on is herself. A girl as beautiful as you are should’ve already learned that score.”

Ugh. She didn't want to hear from the woman about how much better she could’ve done than Hades (as if she’d had a choice in that matter) and she didn’t want to have yet another argument about how she needed to direct herself, her actions, more thoroughly. The pressure she’d been under and her general dislike of the love goddess made Persephone see red. Unlike her gentle mother, unlike her personality in her salad days, she could be downright vicious lately. She grabbed ‘Dite by a handful of her cotton candy-colored hair – even though she knew the end result could get her cursed. Even though she knew how dangerous offending ‘Dite could be. 

“You son of a…” ‘Dite whirled around and tried to punch her but missed, spilling ambrosia all over Persephone’s dress. Persephone’s own haymaker missed in turn. The two women pushed and shoved each other. Persephone didn’t know what had possessed her until she’d lurched forward and pulled ‘Dite to her body by a big handful of her ridiculously bright blonde locks and kissed the holy hell out of her.

Dite struggled against her touch, and then melted, her tongue bursting forth into Persephone’s mouth. They struggled, hands feeling abundant, soft, warm flesh rippling under their open palms and grasping fingertips. Both of them felt ripe – for an argument, for an orgasm. Persephone allowed herself to be bundled away from plain sight, behind a thick, sturdy marble pillar, and for Dite to rip like a ravening harpy at her chiton. 

Her hands found Persephone’s swollen breasts and squeezed them, twisting the tips, making Persephone’s mouth gape and her sex turn liquid, blossoms blooming. Her teeth dragged along Persephone’s neck, and her mouth found her half-revealed breasts, at first sucking at her nipples through the filmy cloth, then biting at them, tearing the cloth open, sucking hard. Her fingertips lacked couth as they began to scratch their way up Persephone’s legs. One hand pinned her hips to the pillar and the other parted her folds to thumb at her clit.

Persephone bit back a keening sound; she was used to the role of the submissive, used to taking on at thunderstorm of pleasure. Her thighs trembled and her body shook violently. The universe upended itself as 'Dite's fingers took on new speed.

And ‘Dite knew all the tricks. Of course she did. Understood when Persephone needed more than one finger, and when she needed ‘Dite’s tongue to stay off of her clit. Understood when to back off and when to get serious. The orgasm building inside of Persephone ebbed and waned, ebbed and waned, until she wanted to scream. All it took was one little flick of ‘Dite’s tongue and she went off. 

Her body crunched down as she came, her whole soul seemed to compact itself downward and then expand and bloom. She throbbed and spilled down ‘Dite’s wrist. It happened again, again, again…

Then in a daze, as it ended and ‘Dite’s touch tapered off, Persephone watched the love goddess rise to her feet. She licked her fingertips.

“Hmmm. Still taste better than the ambrosia.” 

Persephone went wild. She grabbed ‘Dite by the shoulders and pinned her in place. Kisses led to rough manipulation of ‘Dite’s sizable breasts, and then the revelation of thick, pink nipples, which Persephone proceeded to rake with her tongue. ‘Dite’s sounds were musical and desperate, bells ringing in the middle of a temple fire. Her whole body heaved toward Persephone’s then away, like a wave on the ocean. 

'Dite was soaking wet by the time Persephone found her. And there she feasted like a madwoman, desperate to make the goddess come. It was less worship than a cannon firing across ‘Dite’s bow. By the time Persephone’s tongue plunged into the wrinkled nether bower behind ‘Dite’s flushed sex, the goddess screamed.

It popped into Persephone’s mind, as ‘Dite shuddered in orgasm, that she tasted like expensive wine from a fine Roman vintner. But then there was nothing but the sense of power that filled her heart and lungs. SHE was in control. SHE was in charge! She was the one making Aphrodite, the love goddess, the source of sex and romance, cry out and writhe, flush and swell, drip and pinken.

When ‘Dite pushed her away she’d come five times, and the sun had begun to set over the pink-gold mountains behind them. 

“I…” ‘Dite swallowed, a crackling sound. “Thanks.”

“Welcome,” Persephone panted back. 

‘Dite sighed and conjured a mirror for them. In it, they fixed their hair and their make-up, then re-arranged their torn clothing. 

“You weren’t bad, for a total amateur,” Dite observed suddenly. Then she kissed Persephone, her lips tasting like the other goddess. 

Perephone smiled. “You too, sweetie,” she said, echoing ‘Dite’s tone perfectly.


End file.
